


christmas three

by skellingfish



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family, M/M, Slight Drama, Victor gets wasted on eggnog, Yurio misses his family, unbeta-ed please forgive me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-06
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-09-06 22:43:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8772337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skellingfish/pseuds/skellingfish
Summary: Yurio gets stuck at Victor's for Christmas.





	

"Yurio, be careful," Victor scolded. "You'll knock over the Christmas tree."

"Sorry mom." Yurio snapped, almost losing his balance as he stretched to clip the star to the top of the tree. Yuuri poked his head in the door, pulling an oven mitt from his left hand. 

"You two aren't fighting, are you?"

"Of course not." Victor said, a grin spreading over his face. "No fighting on Christmas Eve." He scratched Makkachin behind the ears.

Yurio rolled his eyes. "Is that really a rule? I don't even want to be here with you guys. I'd rather be training at Yakov's."

"No training either. That's another rule."

Yuuri decided they'd be alright on their own, and ducked into the kitchen to finish dinner. It was late, it had taken him awhile to get used to Victor's kitchen, where everything seemed to be in different places. Outside, snow stuck to the windowpanes. The storm had come out of nowhere, grounding planes and stranding thousands of people in airports all across Saint Petersburg. Yurio was one of those people. He'd only come to visit out of curiosity at Victor's invitation, and now here he was, stuck with his nemesis for the holidays. 

As he hung another ornament on the tree, he sighed, blowing a few needles onto the ground.

"What's wrong?" Victor asked, sipping at his spiked eggnog. 

"I'd rather be at home." he said, his words blunt. 

Victor took another sip. "I know you would. Who wouldn't want to spend Christmas with a cook like your grandfather?"

Yurio flinched, almost dropping a bauble, and Victor raised his eyebrow. "You alright?"

"Of course." he snapped. "I'm just tired of decorating this stupid tree. Aren't you going to do anything to help?"

"You wouldn't make an old man like me work would you?"

He pushed a box of ornaments towards Victor. "You can do the rest. I'm going to see if dinner's almost finished. I'm starving."

 _God, I'm tired of being stuck with these two,_ Yurio thought.  _I'd almost rather be left in the airport. Almost._

"Is dinner done?" he asked. 

Yuuri pulled a tray out of the oven. “Almost. Can you possibly set the table? I need to finish up the pirogi. This is my first time making them and—“

“Fine I’ll set the table.”

The boy grabbed a handful of cutlery. Yuuri bent over the cooking, probing the pie. It seemed all right. At least he hoped it was. He broke off a corner of the crust and popped it into his mouth.

“Look at you, piggy.” called a thick Russian accent. “Can’t even wait for dinner can you?”

“I was just...” Yuuri let his voice trail off, blushing hard.

“Whatever, just leave me some. It’s not my fault if you’re too fat to skate.”

“Yurio!” Victor snapped, appearing in the doorway. “Leave Yuuri alone. He’s been kind enough to cook you a meal. The least you can do is be grateful.”

Yuuri didn’t look up, but jumped when Victor wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t listen to anything he says,” he said, his voice low. “As your coach, I give you permission to eat whatever you’d like tonight. It’s Christmas after all.”

“Thanks Victor, I was jus testing the food though.”

Victor didn’t reply, his fingers sliding to undo the back of Yuuri’s apron.

“Bleh, no PDA.” Yurio called.

Victor glared. “What’s put you in such a mood tonight. I thought kids were supposed to like Christmas, aren’t you excited for Santa to come tonight?”

Yurio scowled. “Santa isn’t real you old fool. There’s nothing magical about Christmas it’s about the capitalist agenda.”

“That’s awfully negative.” Yuuri said, putting down the piroshka on the table. He tossed the oven mitts on the counter. Victor picked up the pitcher of eggnog and put it on the table. Yurio banged the glasses down at the three places, and they all sat down to eat.

“No eggnog for you Yurio you’re only fifteen.” Yuuri scolded, his voice soft.

The boy stopped with the pitcher poised above his glass. “Don’t tell me Victor spiked the whole thing!”

Victor looked down at his plate, suddenly very focused on cutting his piroshka into tiny bite sized pieces.

“Plus,” Yurio continued. “I can hold my liquor better than both of you.”

“Fine. One glass.”

“The pie is amazing.” Victor told Yuuri, his hand resting on his thigh. “You’re such a good cook, did you learn from your father?”

“I did. He taught me how to make all the inn’s specials when I was little. I’m a little out of practice though.” He laughed self-consciously.

“Can’t even tell.” Victor said happily, and dug into his piroshka. Yurio poked at his food, mangling it rather than eating it. He’d already drained his eggnog.

“What do you think Yurio?” Yuuri asked. His voice was hesitant.

“It’s alright.” The boy mumbled, taking a tiny bite.

“If you don’t like it I can try to make something different,”

“I said it was fine!” he snapped.

Victor shook his head. “What is with you tonight? I thought everything was alright between you two.”

He didn’t look up. “It’s not him, will you just leave me alone? Stop playing that you’re my family. You’re just my competition.”

Yuuri’s heart sank. “Is this still about Victor coaching me?”

“No!” Yurio’s voice rose suddenly, slicing through the quiet Christmas carol’s filtering in from outside. “It’s has nothing to do with you. Stop making everything about yourself!”

He stood quickly, almost knocking his chair backwards. “I’m going to bed,”

Victor watched Yuuri’s face as Yurio stormed from the room.

 _Skater’s hearts really are like glass._ he thought. Tears filled Yuuri’s eyes, and he quickly tried to blink them away.

“Did I ruin his Christmas?” he asked, turning his dark eyes on Victor.

“No _moya lyubov._ There’s something else bothering him. You had nothing to do with it.”

He nodded, biting his lip, and wiped his wet eyes on a napkin. Victor sighed.

“I’ll go talk to him.” he said, standing up and putting a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Please eat up, I don’t want your hard work to go cold.”

Yuuri nodded. “Thank you Victor.”

 

Yurio was sitting cross-legged on his bed, his phone in his hands. He dialed the number from memory, waiting for someone to pick up. He knew they weren’t home though; it was only eight o’clock. His family was probably still out caroling, or at least looking at the display of gingerbread which the bakery put on every year.

“It’s your first year away from them, isn’t it?”

The boy turned around quickly, and Victor realized he was crying.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked in Russian.

Victor moved slowly, sitting down on the bed beside him.

“It’s hard to be away from family on Christmas, isn’t it?”

Yurio looked as if he was going to snap in reply, but after a moment of thought the aggression dropped from his expression. He nodded.

“I miss my grandfather.”

“He always makes you piroshka for Christmas dinner, right?”

“Right.”

Victor sighed, putting his arm around the boy. Yurio was tense at first, then let himself relax, his head falling onto Victor’s shoulder. A tear rolled down his cheek, and he quickly brushed it away. But then another fell, and another, and soon he was shaking from his sobs. Victor said nothing, watching him. The jagged sound of Yurio’s breathing was the only thing to break the silence.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been hard on you tonight.” he said finally. “Yuuri’s been trying his best to make it a good Christmas for you. He feels so guilty taking me away from you, he never says anything but I can tell.”

“He’s not my family,” The words were bitter, but Yurio swallowed and continued before Victor could interrupt. “But I know he’s trying.”

“He’s very fond of you, you know that? He cares a lot about you.”

Yurio scoffed, a hint of his regular attitude returning.

“Why does he give a damn about _me_? I’m just another competitor.”

“He thinks of you as his friend.”

They fell silent after that, sitting together for a long moment. Victor listened as Yurio’s breathing slowed to a gentle rhythm, and it wasn’t long before the child’s eyes fluttered closed. Soon he was asleep.

Victor left Yurio curled on the bed, draping a blanket over him in an effort to keep the winter’s chill off him. He winced as a floorboard creaked under his foot, but it didn’t seem to disturb him.

 

 

Yuuri was right where Victor had left him. He hadn’t touched his food.

He’d been crying.

 _It seems as if everyone’s crying tonight._ Victor thought, and kissed Yuuri on the top of the head. He jumped, looking up.

“Oh, hello.”

“Hello _moya lyubov_.”

“How is he?”

“Sleeping.”

Yuuri nodded. “I’m glad. Is it me? Did I ruin this for him?”

“No, Yuuri, he’s just homesick. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

They were quiet for a moment. Yuuri leaned into Victor’s embrace, letting it warm him.

“What can we do?” he asked, breaking the silence. Victor shook his head.

“Nothing. Nothing that I can think of anyway.”

“But we can’t just let him be sad!” The tears were back in Yuuri’s eyes, his lips turning down at the corners to a slight frown.

“It’s not like we can just fly them out here.” Victor said. “The airport’s are all closed because of the snow.”

“Well what does his family do on Christmas?”

Victor shrugged. “Probably the same thing as the rest of us. Sneak presents under the tree and open them the next morning?”

Yuuri’s frown deepened. “Well that’s what we’ll do then! We can still make it out before the big shops close at the other end of town. And we can do some more decorating too. I mean all we have right now is the tree. They’ve gotta sell garlands and such, don’t they?”

“I suppose they do,” Victor agreed, his eyes wandering over the barren walls. “We can get stockings too, like Grandfather Frost does.”

“You mean Santa?”

“Ah yes, of course. But here he is called Grandfather Frost!’

Yuuri checked the time on his phone. “We’d better hurry if we want to get everything done in time.”

“Let’s get our coats. It’ll be cold outside.”

 

 

Yurio was awoken by a strong smell of gingerbread wafting through the house. He pulled off the covers, and realized he was still in his clothes from yesterday. Of course, he must’ve fallen asleep on Victor. He pulled on his pajamas, intending to go back to sleep, but only lay in bed five minutes before he decided to get up and see what the source of the smell was.

“Meri Kurisumasu!” Yuuri said, a shy smile on his face. Yurio sank into one of the chairs at the kitchen counter.

“You’re a lot happier this morning. What smells so good?”

“Gingerbread. It’s in the oven now.” He picked up a ladle by the stove, and filled it with whatever was bubbling the pot on the cooker. “Porridge?” he asked, placing the bowl in front of Yurio. The boy’s eyes widened, it smelled amazing, even better than the cookies in the oven. He nodded, picking up the spoon Yuuri had left beside the bowl, and took a big bite.

“Ow!”

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “Oh no! I’m so sorry. Is it not good?”

“N-no.” Yurio swallowed the burning porridge, feeling the warmth slide down his throat. “It’s amazing, just very hot,” He eagerly scooped more into his mouth.

“It looks like Santa’s been here!” Victor called from the living room.

“Really?” Yuuri smiled, putting down his own bowl of porridge and racing into the next room. Yurio followed at a languid pace.

“Please, everyone knows Grandfather Frost is just a story.”

He stopped short, his eyes widening. The living room had been transformed since last night. The tree glittered under the all the decorations that had been piled on. Garlands stretched over the banister of the staircase. Beneath the tree was a huge pile of (poorly wrapped) presents, and above the fireplace hung four stocking stuffed full of gifts: one for Yuuri, one for Victor, one for Yurio, and the biggest for Makkachin. The dog barked happily, putting his paws up onto Yurio’s stomach. He smiled in spite of himself, scratching the pup behind the ears.

“Did you two do all of this?”

“It was Grandfather Fr—“

“Yes.” Yuuri interrupted. “We did. For you.”

“Really? For me?”

“Well, we couldn’t have you sad on Christmas.” Victor added.

Yurio’s smile widened, and he pushed Makkachin off to wrap the two of them in a hug.

“Thank you.” he said, his voice gentle. “Thank you so much.”

 

They had a quiet day, sitting in front of the fire and opening their presents. Together the three of them called Yurio’s family to wish them a merry Christmas. Victor forced Yurio to wear the set of extremely festive Christmas pajamas he’d bought him. Yuuri scolded Victor for feeding Makkachin his gingerbread, and Yurio laughed at the pair of them. By the end of the night, after Yurio had shown Yuuri how to cook borsch and solyanka like his grandfather could, and Victor had gotten wasted on eggnog and sung all the Christmas songs he knew, Yurio had to admit they did feel like a family.


End file.
